The tag game was still in full swing when Mazer arrived. The living room was a whirlwind of motion—people darting, diving, and dodging around the furniture with reckless abandon. Chairs had been shoved aside, pillows flung to the floor, and a few lamps hastily moved out of harm’s way.
Voidkitten was currently “it,” sprinting after Claws, who had just barely slipped through the kitchen doorway, giggling like mad. Nightingale was crouched behind the couch, trying to catch their breath after evading a close tag from Val, while MTR was scaling the back of an armchair, trying to escape from Sirius.
Mazer stepped into this chaotic scene, eyes wide, clearly not expecting what he saw. His hand still rested on the doorknob as he took in the sight: sweaty, out-of-breath friends charging around like they were back in elementary school recess, throwing themselves behind furniture and shrieking with laughter.
“Tag?” Mazer asked, his voice dry with disbelief. His eyes scanned the room, landing on 3pups who was climbing over a coffee table to avoid being tagged by Matt. “You guys are... playing tag?”
Voidkitten, breathing hard but smiling, waved from across the room where she was regrouping for another sprint. “Yup! You missed Social Detective. It was awful, so we went full throttle with tag instead!”
Nightingale, crouched behind the couch, popped up just long enough to yell, “This is the best game ever!”
Mazer just stood there for a moment, eyes narrowed, his disappointment unmistakable. He shifted on his feet, clearly contemplating whether he should even stay. “I was kind of hoping for... I don’t know, something a little more... organized?” he said, sounding unimpressed.
Before anyone could reply, Mazer shook his head. “Never mind. You guys keep doing... whatever this is. I’ll catch you later.” And without another word, he turned around and walked back out the door, closing it behind him.
As soon as the door clicked shut, the room was quiet for a split second before the group burst into laughter.
"His loss!" GC shouted, rolling out of her hiding spot and jumping to her feet.
“More tag for us!” Claws declared, poking his head out from behind the kitchen island.
Voidkitten grinned, eyes scanning the room. “And on that note... Val, you’re still it, right?”
Val, who had been frozen in place when Mazer entered, suddenly remembered their role. With a gleeful shout, Val sprang into action, her eyes locking onto Listo, who had been cautiously standing near the hallway.
“Not for long!” Val yelled, charging across the room. Listo’s eyes went wide, and he bolted toward the kitchen, but Val was faster. She tagged him just as he slipped past the doorframe. “Tag! You’re it!” Val announced triumphantly, spinning around to run for cover.
The pace of the game picked up again, even more intense now that Mazer was gone. Listo, newly “it,” glanced around, determined to tag someone as quickly as possible. He spotted 3pups, who was peeking out from behind the armchair where MTR had been hiding earlier. With surprising speed, Listo darted forward, weaving between the couch and a chair, before lunging at 3pups, who shrieked and tried to leap out of the way. But it was too late—Listo’s fingers brushed his arm. “Tag! You’re it!”
3pups immediately turned on his heel and chased after Mitch, who was trying to quietly slip out of sight near the hallway. In a flurry of limbs, Mitch attempted to dodge but tripped over the edge of the rug. Before he could regain his balance, 3pups tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re it, Mitch!”
Mitch quickly shook off the fall and went on the offensive, his eyes scanning the room like a predator searching for the next target. He spotted Nightingale, who was perched halfway up the stairs, trying to stay out of view. With a sudden burst of speed, Mitch dashed toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. Nightingale saw him coming and scrambled to get higher, but it was too late—Mitch reached out and tagged her foot. “Gotcha!”
Nightingale grinned despite being caught, and without missing a beat, tagged GC, who had made the fatal error of standing too close to the base of the stairs.
The game was absolute chaos now. People were diving behind furniture, vaulting over tables, and sliding across the floor in desperate attempts to evade being tagged. Cwe narrowly avoided getting tagged by Val by doing a somersault over the couch, much to everyone’s surprise, and Matt had taken refuge behind a curtain, hoping no one would think to look there.
But it was Sirius who stole the show. Just when everyone thought they were safe, Sirius, who had been biding his time, sprinted into the middle of the room and, with lightning speed, tagged both MTR and Claws in quick succession, leaving them scrambling to find new targets.
Breaths came in gasps, and laughter echoed through the room as the players zigzagged around each other, the boundaries between “it” and “not it” constantly shifting. The intensity never wavered—if anything, it grew as the night went on, each player more determined than the last to stay in the game as long as possible.
They all forgot about Mazer’s brief, disappointed visit. The only thing that mattered now was the thrill of the chase, the rush of adrenaline, and the sheer joy of playing the best, most rigorous game of tag any of them had ever experienced.
